


Sick Lullabies

by CurliesFiction



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (Flashbacks are in italic ok?), 17 is not that bad, A lot of flashbacks that makes the story angstiest, Angst, Because Yurio being 15 was just... no, Drama, Explicit sex scenes, Hurt/Comfort... attempts?, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Romance, Suicide Attempt, They're all two years older, Victor cheats on Yuuri with Yurio, Victor dies (he had it coming) (ok no it's sad), Yuri with a single U and Yuuri with a double U, Yurio is mad at Victor, Yuuri is just sad, semi-au, victor and yuuri are married
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-16 09:24:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11250243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurliesFiction/pseuds/CurliesFiction
Summary: After an unfortunate accident that takes Yuuri's husband's life, he discovers Victor was having an affair with a 17 year old kid with whom he shares the name.Now that they're both alone, they'll have to learn from each other how to survive dealing with the death of the man they once loved.





	1. Wedding Vows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A part of him wanted to blindly trust Victor’s undeniable love, like Phichit had said. The other part was tired of the blindfold he had put on himself and wanted to know the truth. Even if he wasn’t ready.

I take thee to be my wedded husband.

To have and to hold from this day forward.

For better, for worse.

For richer, for poorer.

In sickness and in health.

To love and to cherish.

Until death do us part.

 

How easy it had been for one of the parties to forget.

.

Yuuri drank a sip of his cappuccino, careful to not burn his tongue, and then left it next to Phichit’s espresso on the table.

The Thai man kept scrolling down his cellphone until he finally found the video he was going to show his friend.

“Here,” he said, leaning close to Yuuri so he could see the phone’s screen where a video of Yuuri trying to land a failed quad lutz that very morning was playing. It had ended up with the man hitting the ice and then staying there for a couple minutes mourning in pain until he was able to stand up again. “Your timing is wrong, that’s why you keep failing.”

“It’s hard to time it when you’re focused on the choreo,” Yuuri sighed heavily. His back still ached and he had gained some bruises, though they wouldn’t stop him for trying again tomorrow.

“Why don’t you just ask Victor to help you? He must have a better eye than me or the phone to know where exactly it is that you’re screwing up.”

Yuuri averted his eyes and took another sip of his beverage.

“Victor is really busy at the moment with his job at the Skating Academy. He has no time,” he pouted while staring at the ground.

Phichit raised a brow.

“Did something happen between the two of you? Are you quarreling?” he asked, trying to read his best friend’s face.

“Nope. We’re okay.” Another sip, his eyes running from Phichit’s.

The Thai locked his phone and left it on the table. He turned on his chair so he would be face to face with Yuuri.

“Spit it.”

Yuuri sighed so hard it hurt his chest.

“We’re fine,” he insisted, though he knew it was in vain since Phichit had already noticed and he was not gonna let go of the matter. It was too late now.

Yuuri’s finger played with his glass, enjoying the warm. He cleared his throat before letting everything out.

“Nothing has happened. But, like, really, _nothing_. Victor is too focused on his job as a trainer and sometimes he stays late for tutoring or skating on his own. He arrives home very late and he always does the same, he dinners, takes a shower and then sleeps.”

“Oh, I get it. So you’re sexually frustrated,” Phichit grinned mischievously, trying to make his friend smile or get embarrassed.

That’s when Phichit realized there _really_ was something wrong. Because Yuuri did not smile, or get embarrassed. Yuuri didn’t look around all flustered and begged him to keep his voice down. Everything he did was shrug and stare at his half-empty glass. Then he looked at his wedding ring, the one Victor had put in his finger two years ago, one that carried all their illusions and love.

It now seemed all too far away.

“I guess love really doesn’t last forever?” he muttered with empty eyes. “Victor’s already tired of me. It’s weird, you know? We were fine, for two years, it was all perfect and then, just out of the blue, everything turned into old good memories.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit held his hand, trying to comfort him. He felt guilty for making Yuuri tell him about his marital problems. But, on the other hand, Phichit knew it was best for Yuuri to let out everything out of his chest before it began to swallow him, “I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding. Victor loves you,” that, he was sure about. So, yeah, Victor had spent too much time working and had left Yuuri forgotten aside, but that didn’t mean he was less important. Sometime people get bored of routines, and you can see it everywhere, it happens to everyone, to every couple. At some point, something changes. “I think it’d be better to talk to him.”

“And tell him what? If I confront him about it he’s probably gonna star to neglect his job. I don’t want that either. I don’t want to force him to make me his priority. I understand that he likes his job.”

“But Yuuri, you’re his husband. _You’re_ supposed to be his top priority. See? This is the kind of things I’m talking about, you’re still lacking communication, even after all this time.” Yuuri tilted his head, not in the mood for an argument.

“Alright, okay, I get it, I get it,” he tried to end the conversation there, but Phichit knew Yuuri was lying.

“You know? There’s another way to get his attention, if you don’t want to do it verbally,” he grinned, “you can always use your body.”

“Huh?” Yuuri looked at him.

“Married or not, Yuuri, you were never able to give the first step, it had always been Victor. Why don’t you try to change that and seduce him in bed?”

“P-Phichit, keep it down, please,” he whispered with a blush on his cheeks.

Yep. There was his Yuuri.

“I don’t know, maybe Victor’s just testing you, waiting for you to take the lead. He must really crave it if he had been holding up for this long, not touching you.”

Yuuri buried his face in his hands.

“I-I can’t do it, I don’t think I can possibly do it.” Phichit noticed how his ears turned red.

“C’mon, you’re married now. It’s not like before when you were so afraid of doing anything because Victor might not like it and he would leave you and go back to Russia.”

Yuuri bit his lower lip. He left his hands, playing with his fingers and glanced at Phichit.

“Umm,” he doubted what he was about to say but finally did, trying to hide his smile of embarrassment. “I-I still have that lingerie I used on our wedding night,” he gulped, unsure. “You think he would like it?”

“Are you kidding me? _I_ helped you pick up that thing, he’s gonna drool all over you.”

Phichit’s words of encouragement were contagious and made Yuuri crack a laugh. Maybe there was still a chance to save his marriage from monotony.

“Give a minute, I’ll be back,” Yuuri suddenly said as he stood up from his place and walked to the restrooms.

Phichit grabbed his phone again and began to scroll through social networks, he stopped at a tweet from Leo and liked it. He kept scrolling.

He stopped when he felt the table was buzzing and realized Yuuri had left his phone, which was now ringing. They were close, so he knew Yuuri wouldn’t mind if he answered –they even had almost the same contacts, anyways–. He took the phone and found it was an unregistered number.

He glanced back at the restroom’s door, hoping to see if Yuuri was already coming so he would handle him the call, but he didn’t find him. Phichit doubted for a moment before taking the call.

 **“ _Yuuri Katsuki?”_** a woman spoke at the end of the line.

“Ah-” but before Phichit could explain, the woman kept on talking.

**_“I’m calling from Queens’ Hospital.”_ **

.

Yuuri threw the paper into the trash can and brushed his hair a little before going out of the restroom. He was planning on going back to his table, but found Phichit waiting for him right out of the door with a hard look at Yuuri’s phone on his hand.

“You forgot your phone,” he said, handing it to him.

“Um, thanks?” Yuuri raised a brow at Phichit, who pursed his lips.

“You got a call while you were inside,” he continued.

“Really? From who?” Yuuri tried to walk past Phichit, but his friend grabbed him by the sweater’s arm, stopping him. The Japanese had been trying to avoid Phichit’s worried look, but was now facing it.

“It was from Queens’ Hospital, Yuuri. It’s about Victor.”

Yuuri felt his heart painfully tightening inside his chest.

.

“Gentlemen, please do not run in the hallway!” A woman from behind a desk yelled at Yuuri and Phichit. The Thai turned on his heel, still walking backwards, and pressed his hands together in apology. Still, neither of them slowed down.

Yuuri’s eyes glanced through the numbers on every door in the hallway, counting them. To his right was room 102, to his left 103, right 104, and so on. His lips were counting every number, predicting the next one, afraid that for some reason they would just change the chronological order.

He stopped in front of room 116, not stopping to confirm if it was the correct number, and slammed open the door startling a group of doctors. Yuuri stared at the person laying on the bed. His face was full of bruises and swollen, making it almost unrecognizable, specially from the room’s door, but Yuuri had no doubt, it was _him_

“Victor,” his voice came out in a high pitch, feeling a lump in his throat.

“It’s the husband,” one of the nurses announced and hurried to Yuuri’s side. “You can’t come in here yet, Mr. Katsuki, please wait outside,” she asked, guiding him out back to the hallway and shutting the door behind her. Phichit was standing in the middle of the hall, watching as the woman assisted Yuuri into sitting down on the lined up chairs outside the room. She then kneeled to his height.

Phichit couldn’t hear what the woman whispered to his friend, but he knew they were words of encouragement.

When she stood back on her feet and went back inside the room, a lonely tear streamed down Yuuri’s face. He buried his face in his hands.

Phichit looked away and noticed as a blond young male stared at Yuuri. He was sitting on the chairs at the other side of the room, with a gauze pad on his cheek just down his eye, and his arm bandaged.

When he realized Phichit was watching, he turned around.

.

It had been almost two hours since then, Yuuri had stopped crying not long ago, but remained sitting with his head casted down, his fingers playing with his ring, rubbing it with anxiety. Phichit had sit next to him and embraced him in a warm hug, but it hadn’t been enough. They haven’t spoken to each other.

The door of the room was suddenly opened and they both turned to see the doctors and nurses leaving the room. Most of them left and went somewhere else, leaving only one doctor and the nurse from before behind.

The doctor, an old man with white hair, wrinkles in his brow and tired eyes hidden behind thick glasses spoke to them with a sharp voice.

“Yuuri?”

“Yes?” Yuuri stood up, pressing his hands to his chest.

“Yes?” at the same time, the blond boy sitting at the other side stood up too.

They looked at each other.

“Who’s the patient’s husband?” the doctor asked again.

“That’s me,” Yuuri followed the doctor and nurse inside the room, staring at the other guy who was staring at the floor with his fist tightly clenched.

When Yuuri entered the room he found his husband connected to various machines, an oxygen mask covered half of his face, allowing him to breath. His eyes were closed, one of them was swollen and purple. There were still reminiscences of blood in his hair, and Yuuri could see the multiple bruises and scratches covering his head.

He was too scared to look at the rest of his body down the blankets.

Yuuri swallowed hard, his breath heavy and he could feel like someone was squeezing his heart making it hard to stay conscious. He sat next to Victor and held his hand, caressing the fingers. He was no wearing his ring, but thought the hospital had his things storage somewhere.

“Victor,” he called, but didn’t get an answer back.

“He’s unconscious for now,” the doctor explained. “We managed to stabilize him, but it’s gonna be a rough night for him. It’d be the best if you’d stay.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri said, still watching his husband’s face.

“If anything happens, or if he wakes up, call us, you just have to press the red button,” said the man, pointing at said button and then left the room. The nurse followed.

When Yuuri was left alone in the room, he carefully touched Victor’s cheek.

“Don’t leave me, Victor. I need you…” he buried his face in the blankets and allowed himself to cry again.

.

Phichit had given him his time alone with Victor for half an hour, after that, he entered the room and walked towards him.

“What happened? How’s Victor?” he asked in a low voice, almost as if his usual tone would wake the Russian up.

“Unconscious, but stable,” he answered. “I’m going to spend the night here. Could you bring me some clothes from my house?”

“Of course, Yuuri, of course. Do you want me to bring you something to eat as well?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll grab something from the cafeteria later.”

Yuuri handed his keys to his friend. Phichit stared at him after having taken them, he then leaned in and hugged Yuuri tight.

“Everything’s gonna be alright, Yuuri, you’ll see,” he assured.

Yuuri was not a touchy person, but he still appreciated it.

“Uhm,” another person’s voice made them break the embrace. It was the blond guy, standing at the door with a frown. “Can I come see him? Victor, I mean.”

“Who are you?” Yuuri asked.

“We were together in the car when we crashed, he was taking me home. My name’s Yuri Plisetsky, his student.”

“Oh,” Yuuri blinked in confusion, “but Victor didn’t have lessons today, he left this morning saying he had things to do.”

“We just happened to meet,” the boy explained in a hurried voice.

Yuuri didn’t say anything else, allowing the young guy to go in. Yuuri let him sit in his chair, as he moved to the other side of the room to talk to Phichit.

If the boy was whispering something to unconscious Victor, neither Yuuri nor Phichit heard.

.

“I can take you home, if you’d like,” Phichit offered the boy, who had been sitting in silence for more than 15 minutes now. Yuuri remained at the door, only watching.

“I want to stay,” he said, and then glanced at Yuuri.

“Only one person can stay,” Yuuri responded. He didn’t know why but there was something about the boy he didn’t like.

“Plus, your parents must be worried sick,” Phichit continued. “I can borrow you my phone to call them if you need to.”

“I have a phone,” the blond said with a sharp voice. “I’ll sleep outside, on the chairs.” He was not asking anymore.

Yuuri’s brow frowned when he noticed the way the other Yuri stared at Victor. It was like the one they had for each other when they got married.

Yuuri bit his lip and left the room.

Phichit stopped him halfway.

“Yuuri? Are you okay? Are you getting something to eat?”

“I don’t like that kid,” he confessed.

“Who? You mean the other Yuri? He looks like a good person. He seems worried about Victor.”

“Yeah, he must be an excellent person, making googly eyes to my husband,” Yuuri grunted.

“Wow, wow, wait just a second, what?”

“Don’t say you didn’t notice, Phichit!”

“He’s his student, he’s worried about him. They were together when they crashed. He just wants to make sure Victor’s okay.”

“Of course! Because they _casually_ met on Victor’s off day! Wasn’t he supposed to be at school or something?” Yuuri snapped. He saw Phichit’s hurt expression and looked away to the floor, trying to avoid it.

“Yuuri… are you even listening to yourself?” he murmured, surprised by the Japanese’s words. “So what if the kid has a crush on Victor? Are you seriously doubting your husband?”

Yuuri crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“I-I don’t know, Phichit. How Victor’s been acting this last couple months… That they were together on his day off…”

Phichit held his hands, breaking the self-embrace of his friend.

“Yuuri, Victor loves you. You’re his whole world. He would never, _ever_ do that to you. _Ever_.”

Yuuri wanted to believe that Phichit’s words were true. Of course he wanted to. But something inside him couldn’t.

.

It was already dark outside and the visiting hours were over. Phichit had been too kind to bring Yuuri a change of clothes and his toothbrush. He had then offered again to give the other Yuri a ride home, but he had refused with a growl.

Yuuri sent off Phichit in the main entrance of the hospital. The Thai man hugged him again and asked him to call if he needed anything. Yuuri appreciated it.

Once Phichit had left, Yuuri was on his way back to Victor’s room, when the lady at the front desk stopped him.

“Excuse me,” she called, “you’re the familiar of the patient in room 116, right?”

Yuuri nodded and the woman gave him a plastic bag.

“It’s the patient’s belongings. You can take them.”

“Ah, thanks,” Yuuri grabbed the see-through bag and explored its content.

The one that stood out the most were his clothes, not just because they were the biggest thing in the bag, but because they were torn and bloody. His belt was intact. There were also his socks. Only one shoe –Yuuri wondered what happened to the other–. There was a second much smaller bag inside with Victor’s wallet, his watch, only the frame of his sunglasses, his keys, wedding ring and cellphone.

Yuuri turned on a corner and stopped. He looked around, as if afraid that someone might see him, though he was sure no one would tell him anything if they found him looking at his husband’s belongings.

He opened the bag and took out the phone. It was turned off and the screen was all cracked. He pressed the middle button for a couple seconds, hoping that it still worked. The screen lighted up, but when Yuuri tried to use he came across an unlock screen protected by a numeric password. Victor had never locked his phone.

Yuuri thought for a moment and then entered a number, an important date. If he knew Victor as well as he thought, that would be the password.

The phone unlocked, giving Yuuri access to all his archives and apps.

He opened his texts. The contact _Yurio_ was the first one to show at the top. It had that blond kid’s picture as icon, showing him grinning with a lion statue, wearing a lion shirt with proud.

Yuuri closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

A part of him wanted to blindly trust Victor’s undeniable love, like Phichit had said. The other part was tired of the blindfold he had put on himself and wanted to know the truth. Even if he wasn’t ready.

He opened the conversation, losing to the second voice inside him. Victor had nothing to hide from him anyways, right?

_Right?_

His eyes began to read while scrolling up, traveling through time. To that morning, to yesterday, to the day before yesterday.

And before that, and before that.

Yuuri sat down in one of the hallway’s chairs, stopping in one of the messages, analyzing it, trying to change the meaning behind the words Victor had wrote to the kid. He looked at the pictures, breathing heavily. He was drowning. He couldn’t breathe.

He locked the phone.

He stared at the floor for some seconds, maybe even minutes. His mind was blank.

He didn’t cry.

Not when his husband had hid those conversations using the date of their wedding as password.

.

When Yuuri made it back to the hallway with heavy steps until reaching for Victor’s room, his eyes fixated on said Yurio, sitting in the chairs just outside the room, hugging his knees and watching his phone.

Yuuri took deep breathes in and kept on walking to the room. When his hand touched the knob, he stopped.

He glanced at the kid.

He walked towards him.

“You and _my husband_ ,” he tried not to sound too obvious, but let him get the message, that _he_ was _married_ to Victor. “…is there… is there something between the two of you?”

He had read the messages. He knew the truth. But something inside him still wanted to believe in Victor. He had to hear it, he needed a verbal confirmation that would stick in his hard skull.

The blond put his phone down and faced Yuuri from his place on the chair. They stared at each other for some seconds and then he finally sighed.

“I didn’t know he was married,” he confessed.

The word’s pierced him like a thousand sharpened knives. They were tattooed into his head, and he felt his wedding ring burning his skin.

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat, keeping him from saying anything. He turned in silence and entered the room, leaving Yurio outside in his place.

Once inside and with the door shut, he didn’t go next to Victor as before. Instead he fell on the couch in front the bed.

He then remembered he had been keeping his breath and sighed all the feelings he had been keeping caged painfully inside his chest. He let the tears slide freely down his cheeks again.

.

_Yuuri stared at his reflection in the mirror for the umpteenth time in just that last hour. This time he adjusted his tie. He had undone it and done it again six times that day because it didn’t feel right somehow. He combed his head back with his fingers again._

_“Yuuri, stop. You’re making me nervous,” Phichit said behind him while reading one of the cards in his hands, trying to memorize what was written on them._

_“_ You _are nervous today,” Yuuri slowly pronounced with sarcasm._

 _“Yeah, duh,” Phichit rolled his eyes, “since_ someone _picked me to be their best man, now I’m obligated to give a speech in front of everyone.”_

 _“Phichit, this is_ my _wedding day. I am the one who can’t feel his knees.”_

_“Well, if this was a normal wedding, I wouldn’t be as nervous, y’know,” the Thai clarified. “But since my best friend and his future husband turned out to be celebrities in the sports world, the press is gonna be there. And the paparazzi will be there, all their critic eyes staring at me, waiting for me to make the smallest mistake to feed on my disgrace like vampires and then every news and magazines will know of my shame! Do you have any idea of how hard it is to get sponsors when you’re everybody’s clown? What if they make a meme of me? God, it would be the end of me.”_

_“Phichit,” Yuuri grabbed him by the shoulders, “You. Are just. Going to give. A speech. In_ MY _wedding ceremony. I am the one who’s about to piss himself! What if I trip when walking down the aisle? Or what if I forget the step sequence? Or I stutter when saying my vows? Or I let the ring fall? What if I moan when Victor kisses me, it happens sometimes, I can’t help it! Or if my cake gets caught on fire?” Phichit raises an eyebrow at him, “What? I saw in on youtube. And it’s on youtube!”_

_Before Phichit could say something, a melody began to play in the background._

_“Oh my god,” Yuuri mutters, recognizing the song as his entrance. He glances back to his reflection on the mirror. No. Everything’s wrong. His hair was not combed enough, his suit was not white enough, his looks just weren’t enough. Was that a_ pimple _?_

_“I can’t do it,” Yuuri blurts out all of a sudden. Phichit made a face. “Oh my god, I can’t do it, Phichit. Do you think Victor would hate me if I don’t go out? Do you think he won’t talk to me ever again?”_

_“Well I know for sure who would be the one to make it to the headlines.”_

_“It wasn’t supposed to be such a big ceremony!” he mourns and then sits down on a couch. His legs were shaking while the music kept playing. “I wanted a small, humble wedding, but the press found out about it and now I have to give an interview for seven international magazines at two and a press conference at four!”_

_“Yuuri,” Phichit kneeled in front of his friend and held his hands, he tries to search for Yuuri’s eyes, but they’re staring at the carpeted floor, “everything’s gonna be alright. You’re not gonna trip on your way down the aisle. You’re not gonna forget the dance’s step sequence. You’re not gonna stutter when saying your vows. The rings is not gonna fall, and your cake is not gonna catch on fire, okay?” he says with an assuring look in his face. “And even if it does happen, Victor still loves you more that anyone and anything in this world. And you love him too. This is supposed to be the best day of your life, not the most traumatic one,” he smiles. “And if you can win the gold medal at the Grand Prix and break a world record in front of a thousand people, giving them the best show of their lives, you can get married to the man you love the most without screwing it.”_

_Yuuri looks up, finding his friend’s dark gaze. He smiled._

_“I can’t help but notice that you didn’t say anything about me moaning when Victor kisses me,” he smirks._

_“Oh that? Yeah, I would actually like to hear that. But do not worry, ‘Yuuri Katsuki moans while kissing his husband’ doesn’t really sound like a good headline to me.”_

_They both laughed at the same time and then breaths in. Yuuri stands on his feet, feeling more confident now._

_He closes his eyes and let himself get into the music. It was like when he skated. It was turning the music on and out on his mask, forgetting his true self, forgetting the man with so many issues inside him and focus on getting ready to give the people outside the best show ever. One they would never forget._

_He opened the main door and his eyes find his future husband’s, whose face lightened up the moment he saw him._

_Phichit was right. If he could win at World’s and the Grand Prix, and set a new record, then he could marry Victor Nikiforov. The one he loved the most._

_._

“Ngh.”

Yuuri’s eyes opened heavily when a groan echoed in the room. He was on the couch in an uncomfortable position, with his head on his arm and his glasses threatening to fall.

Yuuri blinked twice, trying to completely wake up.

It took him some seconds to realize that the sound that had awoken him had not been made by him.

His stare moved to the man laying on the bed. His foot moved inside the blankets.

“Victor!” he jumps off the couch and hurries to his husband’s side. Yuuri holds his hand between his. The same hand where the ring is supposed to be.

The Russian squeezed his shut eyes with pain and Yuuri could see his breathing fastening.

Victor opened his eyes slowly, blinking in confusion. He tilted his head and stared at Yuuri.

“You should be training…,” he muttered and found out how hard it was to speak with the mask on his face. He looked at all the thing he was connected at and let out a groan as he pulled out the intravenous in his arm. He stared blankly at said arm, which was bandaged and only then he noticed the multiple bruises and scratches spread all over his body. He didn’t feel pain, though, thanks to the painkillers.

Yuuri’s eyes wetted.

“And you said you would be at the bank,” he threw back with broken voice.

Victor’s look changed from one of confusion to panic as the memories hit him back and realizing what had happened. He tried to prop himself up in the bed, unsuccessfully, so he just looked around him, he searched every corner.

“Where’s Yurio?” he asked.

Yuuri felt his heart clenching inside his chest. He looked down.

_(He’s not here.)_

_(He left.)_

_(He’s not coming back.)_

“Outside,” he said.

His answer helped Victor relax and he lay down back on the bed.

“Thank God he’s alright,” Yuuri overheard Victor whispering.

Yuuri eyed Victor while the questions he wanted to ask filled his head, but he was unable to say it outloud.

_(Who is he?)_

  _(Why were you together?)_

_(Have you been cheating on me?)_

He knew the truth, though. He had read the messages, seen the pictures. He had heard it from the boy’s own mouth.

But if Victor said it wasn’t true, he would still believe so.

A single tear ran through his cheek, landing on his glasses.

How stupid was that?

Then Victor began to cough and Yuuri got on his feet, helping Victor up.

“Are you ok?” he asked with worry as the other man kept his hand to his mouth, coughing. Yuuri saw blood dripping down his slender fingers and he forgot how to breath.

His eyes searched all around the bed desperately until he found the button that would call for help. When he tried to reach it, though, Victor stopped him.

“Vic-!”

“He can’t be by himself,” Victor muttered in pain, blood dripping down his mouth.

Was he talking about the other Yuri?

“He can’t live without me,” Victor added and Yuuri asked him to stop talking. He tried to convince himself he had said that to Victor because he was worried for his health, but truth be told, he just didn’t want to keep listening.

Suddenly the grip on his arm loosened until Victor let him go. His arm hanged on the air with no force.

Victor’s whole body was forceless, making him look like a rag doll.

“Victor?”

An annoying buzzing echoed inside his head.

Except it was not a buzz.

And it was not inside his head.

It was the machine Victor was still linked to. The one that read his heartbeats.

And it couldn’t find Victor’s heartbeats.

Yuuri didn’t realize he was screaming until his throat burned. The door of the room slammed open and two nurses hurried inside with a doctor.

One of the nurses pulled him away from his husband and Yuuri stretched out his arms, trying to reach him, trying his best to get to him.

He needed him.

He needed to hug him. He needed to feel him.

He needed to tell him he loved him.

He saw the doctor taking the defibrillators.

Next, he saw the room’s door closing into his face.

He grasped at the woman’s body that kept him from entering back into the room and cried on her shoulder without holding back.

Victor died that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! So, yeah, this fic is for open minded people who enjoy the three couples (I enjoy them all, spread the love!)  
> Main couple will actually be YuuYu. It's kinda angsty though, but I hope you can keep up with it. Happy ending will come (or will it not? It will, I promise it will).


	2. The days without you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri muffled a scream in his throat.  
> There was a guy laying on the floor. The shower washing away remains of blood.  
> They both knew who it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very very much for the kudos and reviews! It got a far more better reception than I thought!
> 
> Just remembered I forgot to clarify in the other chapter and in the tags, this is a Semi-AU (as you must have already noticed). In here Yurio is 17, Yuuri 26 and Victor 29. Victor is the retired legend he is in the original, and because Yurio was never there, Yuuri won gold at the GPF and is a very well-known figure skater, the number one, actually. He's still skating and Victor part-times as Yuuri's coach, part-times teaching kids how to skate. They got married but kept their own last names.
> 
> The story takes place in New York.

_They started to make out in the corridor, on their way to the hotel room they had rented for that special day, forestalling that neither them nor their guests would have to risk it to drive home at such late hours while drunk._

_Victor fought against the keycard that was supposed to grant him access to the room. He let out a frustrated groan on Yuuri’s lips, who laughed and took out his own keycard from his coat and easily slide it down the doorknob and opened the door._

_The Japanese was the first one to step in, he turned on the lights, but the moment Victor put a foot inside, he turned then back off and closed the door behind him._

_Victor pushed Yuuri’s body closer to his and the raven tangled his fingers in his silver locks while opening his mouth and granting him full access to his tongue._

_Yuuri opened his eyes in surprise when Victor lifted his body from the ground and carried him to the bed, placing him with care._

_“This is so cliché,” Yuuri smiled._

_“What can I say? I’m a romantic,” Victor said as he kissed Yuuri’s knuckles. His lips caressed the gold ring that garnished his finger._

_They both stared at each other as realization hit them._

_They were now married._

_It was like any other day. The sun had risen, the alarm had ringed, the day had been sunny, just like any other day, except for the fact that that day they had decided to link their lives forever and the ring, more than an expensive gift, was a reminder for both of them. A reminder of how they had met, how they had fallen in love, how they had married each other. So in every argument, misunderstanding or simply bad day they would look at their rings and remember the certainty with which they had said ‘I do’._

_Victor began to undo his tie and Yuuri helped him unbuttoning his shirt._

_“Someone’s in a hurry,” Victor schuckles._

_“More like, really drunk.”_

_“Meh, you’ve been worse.”_

_“Oh, yeah?” Yuuri pulls him from the tie, bringing him close to his face so Victor can smell the alcohol as he whispers. “But I am not wearing boxers tonight.”_

_A whistle left Victor’s lips as he let his tie falls to the ground. He put his hand on Yuuri’s chest and slowly pushed him back on the mattress, his shirt half unbuttoned._

_“Well, now I can’t wait to see that,” Victor says with a playful grin on his face._

_Yuuri looked at him in the eye as Victor took off his clothes. His suit, the tie, the suspenders, the belt… While Victor was focused on his task, intentionally touching every inch of skin as it was uncovered, Yuuri only watched. His silver hair, his long eyelashes, his curvy lips, his Adam’s apple. He memorized every one of his features, every curve, every muscle, every hair strand, as if he was pretending to make a portrait of him basing only in his memories. For a moment he thought he would actually be able to, even sculpt him in stone, highly detailed, from the many times he had admired Victor Nikiforov’s beauty._

_He tilted his head as he felt his husband’s lips kissing his neck while opening his shirt and exploring under it. Victor’s fingers stopped as he felt more fabric on Yuuri than he expected. He pulled away to watch him._

_He was able to see some kind of laced white top showing from under the shirt. The man blinked a couple times and Yuuri used that moment of confusion to pull down his own pants a little until a second piece of matching underwear could be seen._

_“Wow…” Victor muttered in full surprise, he would have never thought of his Yuuri to come up with something like that. “Just… Wow, Yuuri.”_

_Yuuri smirked._

_“And you should see the tights.”_

_Victor didn’t wait any longer and jumped back on him, kissing him desperately and taking off the rest of his own clothes until he was fully naked to feel Yuuri’s warmth. He took off Yuuri’s pants and felt the soft tights’ fabric that covered Yuuri’s beautiful and perfect skater’s legs._

_God, Victor was so blessed._

_Victor’s kisses ran through all of Yuuri’s body and down, drawing a path that went from his neck, his chest and his abs, and his teeth played with his hip bone, making Yuuri moan with pleasure. The raven’s fingers tangled in Victor’s silver locks, pulling at them as the foreplay continued._

_The moment Victor let his guard down, Yuuri rolled him over, switching positions. Victor watched him in awe on his lap. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined Yuuri in lingerie, so he tried to catch the picture and store it forever in his memories. It would probably be of use some lonely day._

_Yuuri kissed him hard and Victor laughed during a panting, going back to when he had first met that timid and too self-conscious guy who had him now pinned down on the bed, kissing him and touching him as he pleased, as he needed._

_“I love you,” the words naturally slipped off Victor’s lips and Yuuri stopped mid-way to look at him. Actually_ look _at him in the eyes, losing himself in the depth of his blue irises like a sailor on the sea._

_Except that, for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel lose at all._

_“I love you, Victor,” he reciprocated with a sweet smile, like the ones that had the power to stop Victor’s heart._

_The Russian’s hands began to pull down Yuuri’s laced underwear, slipping it down his legs. He licked his lips as he thought of how incredibly aroused it was to know that the person he was doing this with was_ his _husband._

_They made love that night. Live always and like never. Their hands ran all over the other’s body, exploring every inch of skin like the first time. Their kisses eventually became chaste, pure and full of tenderness. The room filled with moans, gasps, begs and promises._

_Yuuri hugged Victor’s body tightly and tossed his head to the back as he felt the older one ejaculating inside him. He let out a loud moan that got lost between the room’s walls as he enjoyed the warmth inside him and the sweet at light smell of Victor and sex._

_Victor kissed him again and they both fell on the bed. His hands ran along Yuuri’s ticklish sides and he couldn’t help a laugh. Victor smiled and kept on attacking him while the other one tried to push him away with no result. Victor covered them both with the blanket and they tangled themselves between caresses, laughs and tickles, and some chaste and playful kiss every now and then. And some looks of full adoration and illusion every now and then._

_Yuuri wished for that night to never come to an end, though he knew he had many more others to come. Many, many more._

_._

The only funeral Yuuri had ever attended before was Makkachin’s about a year ago. Victor had had his heart broken but had gotten over it pretty fast since he knew already that the dog hadn’t much time left. At least he had had the time to mentally prepare himself as Makkachin surpassed the dog race’s age limits. Not that it made it less painful. Yuuri remembered they had spent some time together after that, analyzing the fragile world they lived in, suddenly too conscious that everything would one day come to an end.

But there were people who just seemed to be immortal. Victor was one of them.

The only funeral he had ever attended had been his dog’s, and if that one had been painful, being now in his husband’s was like being in a real nightmare. He wished for everything to end soon so he could go home, sleep and with some luck, never wake up again.

Phichit never let go of his side, and he had even kept away the press from him when Victor’s death appeared all over the news. It was hard to just go through the day without the constantly reminder on every news, magazine, blog or social media. All of them talking about the legend his husband were, and nettling Yuuri to get out more information, or at least record him having a break down.

It didn’t matter to Yuuri how much of a legend his husband had been to the world. He just wanted for people to realize he had been his husband and stop pestering him.

His mother and father couldn’t make it to the burial, the new had been a great shock for everyone, it had been obviously unexpected and they just couldn’t close the _onsen_ to travel all the way to New York to comfort him. Yuuri was somehow grateful for that, he had been able to control himself all that time, even during the ceremony, aware of the press that was watching him closely, but he was sure that if he had seen his mother’s face he would have break apart.

His sister and Minako did take the first plane to New York to see him, but his name remained unspoken from all three of them since their arrival. Both Mari and Minako were focused on Yuuri only, and Yuuri was grateful that none of them pressed on the subject.

Christophe had just arrived from Switzerland. He had barely made it in time. He was standing in front of some gravestones still with his suitcase in hand and wearing sunglasses to hide his swollen eyes. Yuuri would notice some tears that escaped his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Yuuri knew how close they were.

Yuuri couldn’t help but wonder if Christophe had known about the other Yuri…

After all, Chris seemed to be the closest thing to a best friend that Victor had.

His eyes found Phichit and wondered if he had had an affair, would he have told Phichit?

After thinking it for a couple minutes he came up with the answer that no, he wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t possibly be able to keep up with the guilt after knowing how the other one would react.

Had Victor felt guilt?

“Yuuri,” Phichit rubbed his back carefully, almost afraid he would break him. “You’ve been standing there for half an hour now. It’s time to go,” he pointed out and the Japanese wiped off a tear and forced a smile.

“Yeah,” he muttered with sore voice.

Phichit looked at him with worry.

“Do you want me to take you home? Are you sure you can drive?” he asked, trying to be supportive.

“It’s okay, Phichit. Mari and Minako-sensei are coming with me. Sensei is driving.”

Phichit agreed with him them. He had seen the two girls waiting on the street in front of Yuuri’s car. They were both smoking with swollen eyes.

When they were walking out the graveyard, Yuuri froze. Phichit looked up to the entrance and let out a heavy sigh.

Victor’s student was standing there. He had some flowers in his hands. Not like the bouquets other people had brought. His flowers weren’t beautiful, big, expensive or extravagant that immediately caught people’s attention. No. They were small, delicate and wild that probably wouldn’t make it for the night.

“What is he doing here?” Yuuri whispered, his head working double-time.

The blond stared at Yuuri for long seconds, each waiting for the other one to do or to say something. Finally, it was the Russian who clicked his tongue and walked past Yuuri’s side. Phichit could practically feel Yuuri’s body tightening from the other’s proximity (though said proximity was almost 10 feet away). He kneeled in front of Victor’s gravestone, leaving the flowers on the ground, next to the bouquets.

Yuuri watched as the kid caressed the stone and something inside him burned in anger. But he didn’t move, he couldn’t move.

Phichit spoke to him in a calm and reassuring tone, “C’mon, Yuuri, let it be, let’s just go home. I’ll go with you.”

Yuuri took a deep breath in. He didn’t look back at the kid and walked with Phichit to the car.

.

The four of them had been sitting in the living room for about an hour, in silence. Yuuri hugged a cushion against his chest. Phichit was just staring at his hands, Minako staring at the ceiling and Mari at his brother. She was wondering what was going through his mind. When would he finally break?

Yuuri was going through the stages of grief and loss, just like everybody did when someone close to them passed away. The only problem was that not all of them suffered from anxiety attacks like him.

She was really worried of what Yuuri would do before reaching the Acceptance stage.

 Yuuri’s house was, unfortunately for what was happening, a home. It was full of memories, full of pictures. Victor’s coat was still hanging in the entrance’s rack. Mari wondered if Yuuri hadn’t noticed, or if he had decided to leave it there, waiting for his husband to come back home from work.

Yuuri shifted suddenly in his place, raising his head and everyone stared at him, expectantly.

The Japanese blinked twice, he opened his mouth but closed it again. He seemed to have changed his mind but he finally spoke with a smooth tone.

“It’s already late. Victor hasn’t come back yet,” he said. Mari and Minako looked at each other, Phichit hid his face between his hands.

It was the moment they were all waiting to happen. The one they hoped wouldn’t come.

Denial.

“Yuuri,” his sister was the first one to approach him. She rubbed his knee and looked at him with sadness in her eyes. Minako got up on her feet almost immediately and pulled her by the arm.

“Mari and I are going out to get something to eat,” she said quickly, before the other girl could even think of something to tell her brother.

Mari glared at her, confused, and Minako’s only answer was glance at the front door. Mari followed her without another word. When Minako walked pass Phichit, she touched his shoulder, and then they left.

The Thai let out a heavy sigh.

So it was all on him now.

His duty as the best friend.

“Yuuri,” he called and the Japanese looked at him, sadness in his eyes behind the glasses. It was the face of a person who _knew_.

Of a person who did not want to know.

Of a person who had decided on their own to ignore the truth.

He was silently begging Phichit not to say the words.

But Phichit knew it would only get worse.

“Victor is not coming back,” he said in a single breath.

Yuuri stared at him, hiding behind thick glasses, pretending they were a wall. Pretending that they weren’t transparent and maybe that way he would be able to fool Phichit. That Phichit wouldn’t notice the exact same moment where his heart broke into pieces.

Phichit didn’t have to say anything else. Those few words had been enough for Yuuri to remember the night Victor’s life had faded away in his arms.

Suddenly, he felt dizzy. He was sitting on the couch but it didn’t seem to be enough, he needed something more stable. He fell on his knees to the ground, his eyes fixated on a non-existent point in the wall. Phichit hurried to his side, hugging him and Yuuri found in him the support he needed so bad.

And he cried. He let his friend watch him crying for the first time. Not even his family had seen it before. The only one had been Victor.

But right now he wasn’t strong enough to keep up the appearances and pretend to have a strength he actually lacked.

He had no strength.

He was weak. Always had been.

His strength had always been Victor. But Victor was gone now. Victor was never coming back.

In that moment the world felt so big, so cold and so lonely.

.

They had ended up laying on Yuuri’s bed, the same one he had shared with Victor for two years. Both close and staring blankly at the ceiling. It was nostalgic. It was like when they were both studying together in Detroit.

They had heard Mari and Minako arriving almost an hour ago, and they heard the noise in the kitchen as they prepared something to eat. Yuuri was not hungry, his eyes were too swollen and his body was too tired to go out, but he had told Phichit he didn’t have to starve to stay with him. The Thai had refused to leave his side, saying he wasn’t hungry either, though Yuuri could clearly hear his stomach’s growling.

He didn’t insist. He actually didn’t want to be left alone. The bed was too big for one person.

The memoir of his husband was everywhere. His clothes were still hanging in the closet, his shoes were still forgotten next to the door, his dirty clothes were inside the laundry basket and his pictures hanged in the walls.

Pictures of his competitions, of their wedding, their honey moon. Of their vacations in Italy and of their first anniversary in France, the second in Russia.

Yuuri felt overwhelmed of so many remembrances of their marriage, of their happy times spent together.

He hugged his knees and hid his face in the pillow. Victor’s smell was still impregnated in the sheets.

Then Yuuri remembered something. A tiny detail he had tried so hard to forget, at least for the day.

A detail that went by the surname ‘Yurio’ in his husband’s cellphone.

Yuuri’s fingers caressed the sheets under him.

Had _he_ been on those same sheets? Had Victor ever brought him?

“How did he know where we were at?” the question that was supposed to remain in his head for him only left his lips.

He heard a gasp coming from Phichit and Yuuri turned to face him.

“I’m sorry,” the Thai said. “I was the one who told him.”

Yuuri propped himself up with his elbow until he was sitting in the bed.

His head’s engines began to work without him being able to stop them.

“Phichit you… did you know about him?”

Phichit looked at him with a frown on his face.

“Yuuri,” he called his name in a low, hurt tone. “You don’t actually think that of me, do you?”

The Japanese didn’t answer back. A part of him knew it couldn’t be true, he would never doubt Phichit, his best friend. Yet, Yuuri was afraid the side that believed that would be the same that blindly trusted Victor. And he already knew how gullible it was.

“Yuuri, if I had known, I would have killed Victor myself,” he continued. His voice’s tone said he wasn’t kidding about it.

Yuuri knew. He _knew_. But he still couldn’t believe it.

“Then why?” he whispered.

“Because I thought it was the right thing to do,” he answered and Yuuri couldn’t help but glare at him.

“ _The right thing?_ ”

“I mean, they were close. The kid spent all night in the hospital. It would be too cruel to not tell him where he was gonna be buried.”

“ _Close_?” Yuuri blurted out. He took a minute of silence to read the Thai’s face, waiting to find any trace of a joke. Of a very, _very_ bad joke. He found none. “Of course they were close, Phichit. They were _lovers_. They were fucking lovers!”

“Yuuri…” Phichit touched his shoulder, trying to calm him down.

“You invited my husband’s lover to his burial!” Yuuri slapped his hand away from him. “This isn’t about being _close_ , or teacher and student! God damn it, Phichit! I can’t even be sure that Victor never fucked him in this same bed!”

“Yuuri, I’m sorry, I never thought you…”

“Go away,” the Japanese interrupted him.

“What?” he blinked twice.

“Please, Phichit, just… just go away,” Yuuri fell back on the bed, turning around so he wouldn’t see him.

The room fell into a dead silence for almost a whole minute, until he felt Phichit’s movements on the bed as he got up and left the room. Yuuri heard the click on the door as his friend closed it slowly.

When he found himself alone in the room, he go on his feet and, in an impulse, he pulled at the bed’s sheets and threw them at a corner of the room. He then grabbed all the pillows and decorative cushions and threw them with the other cloths.

He pulled at his hair and gritted his teeth.

It wasn’t enough.

In a moment that place, their love sanctuary, had become a prison. Yuuri was locked up in a prison with lies hanging from the walls. Lies he saw everyday but just now found out what they really were.

He unhanged the pictures and threw them away with the rest of the things in the corner. He felt a little disappointed when they landed on top of the sheets without a sound. He had hoped to see them falling to the ground and shattering into pieces. Yet, the other side of him felt relieved they were remained intact. Lies or not, they were still memories. You couldn’t just get rid of memories that easily.

Victor could’ve been a lie. But he wasn’t.

Damn Victor.

He grabbed a shirt from his that was laying at the end of the bed. He was about to throw it away to the same corner, but his arm didn’t have the strength to do so. The smell of Victor’s cologne was still in the cloth.

Tears began to stream down his eyes.

He fell into the bed and hugged the shirt. He clung to it like his life depended on it. He inhale the smell of the cloth, recognizing the familiar scent of cologne and Victor.

He missed him.

Damn it.

He really missed him.

He wanted Victor to arrive from home. Tired as he had recently been, and when he did he would go to the room to change his clothes and Yuuri would face him about his student. And Victor would tell the truth as he had nothing else to hide. And he would apologize and say it was just a mistake and promise it would never happen again, and that he wouldn’t see him again. And Yuuri would have probably been mad, he would be depressed and chose to sleep either in the living room or at Phichit’s.

But he would have forgiven him.

Sooner or later, he would have forgiven him.

Because he loved him more than anything in this world.

But that picture would never exist.

Because Victor was never arriving home again.

And what hurt the most to Yuuri was that he will never know the reason why. Or if Victor ever regret it. If he ever felt guilty about what he did.

Yuuri felt so lonely. No, not lonely. Loneliness meant not having anyone. He felt neglected, left behind.

He felt betrayed.

He, who had opened up to Victor, who had always been honest and devoted, he had been betrayed. Why did Victor do it?

The worst thing was that he just couldn’t hate him.

Because a voice inside him told him that if Victor had done something like that, was only because he hadn’t been enough.

Yuuri was never enough.

.

Yuuri didn’t leave his room for two days. Mari and Minako would bring him food, but he barely ate. Phichit spent those days sleeping in the couch and only leaving the house to go get clean clothes from his apartment. He had gone back to Yuuri’s room that day to apologize for what had happened, but the widowed didn’t say anything, he remained laying on the bed, he hadn’t even changed his clothes.

On the third day, Yuuri finally left his room. Mari was making food and Minako had already drunk all the alcohol in the house and was now finishing the last bottle of scotch. Phichit was in his cellphone in the living room. The three of them stopped what they were doing to look at Yuuri.

“Phichit,” he called him and the Thai got on his feet in a jump when hearing his name. “Could you take me to the rink?”

Phichit blinked in confusion.

“T-to our rink? You’re going to skate?”

Yuuri let out a heavy sigh and leaned his head against the wall, his glasses moved from their place as it hit the wall.

“To _his_ rink. I want to pick up his things.”

.

Victor’s rink was way bigger than Phichit’s and his, enough for many groups to practice at the same time but right now there was only a group of kids, about twenty of them. Their families barely occupied the stands and the place was filled with a sweet and light melody.

They felt nostalgic as they watched the kids practicing basic jumps with the coach always close. At that age all they wanted was jumping and to avoid everything about step sequence.

Phichit agreed in waiting at the stands, watching the kids, some more experienced and wilder than the others.

As Yuuri was looking for the changing room, a man in his mid-forty’s and well-build body blocked his way.

“Can I help you?” he asked with a condescending tone. He reminded Yuuri of Celestino, so he immediately knew he was a coach.

“Uhm,” he stutter but before he could say anything the man opened his eyes wide, recognizing him.

“Yuuri Katsuki?” he asked.

Of course he would recognize him. He was a figure skater coach and Yuuri was a world champion figure skater. For a second, the man seemed to be about to ask him for a selfie or an autograph, but he stopped himself and instead bit his lip.

“Are you here to gather Victor’s things?” he asked and of course he would also know about their marriage.

Yuuri nodded and the man kindly guided him to the locker room. He didn’t say anything else which Yuuri very much appreciated.

He showed him Victor’s locker. Number 17. In front of it there were flowers and cards, most likely from his students and Yuuri felt tears filling his eyes to know how much his students liked him.

He hadn’t been able to go into any social media or turning on the tv since his death. He knew it would be full of stories about the legend he was. His life and career exploited by the press now that he was dead.

“I’m afraid I don’t know his password, but maybe you can decipher it. If not, we can always call someone,” the man said and he left Yuuri alone.

He took the lock in his hand and put the same password that had unlocked his cellphone, their wedding date. It didn’t work.

Yuuri sighed heavily and knocked his head against the metal, making a hollow sound. Of course he hadn’t expected Victor to use the same password for everything, but it was his only shot, now he had no clue.

“Are you looking for something?” someone asked at the other side of the room with an aggressive tone and Yuuri looked at him.

He had decided to forget that voice, hoping he would never meet him again.

Great. It was just what he needed. To see _him_.

The blond opened his eyes wide when he realized who he had spoken to.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered as he apologized almost immediately, though he didn’t seem to actually feel sorry. The kid turned on his heel, about to leave, but he stopped and looked back at him. “Are you here for his things? Are you trying to open up the locker?”

Yuuri frowned at him.

“Why? Do you know the password?” he didn’t realize he had practically growled.

“At first I thought they were random numbers but,” he said, “it’s your birthday.”

Yuuri shut his eyes when he heard that, doubtful. He took the lock in his hand once again and entered his birthday. A click echoed and Yuuri knocked him head back into the locker, crisping his fists.

Why did Victor do that to him?

“Fuck you, Victor Nikiforov,” he muttered.

“That’s my new motto,” the other Yuri snorted as the Japanese glared at him. “Hey, you’re not the only one he lied to. If I had known he was married, I would have never done it.”

Yuuri huffed.

“Yeah, sure, you didn’t know we were married,” he said with a sarcastic tone, opening the locker door.

The blond shrugged behind his back.

“No, Mr.I’m-the-best-figure-skater-in-the-world-and-everybody-has-to-know-the-story-of-my-life, I did not know you and Victor were married until three days ago when I googled you,” he grunted back.

Yuuri slammed the door close.

When was the last time he had gotten so mad like that? He couldn’t even remember. The kid just got in his nerves.

“Fuck you,” he hissed before going out of the changing room and leaving Victor’s locker’s forgotten.

He walked long and hurried steps to where he had left his friend in the stands. The Thai glanced at him with worry.

“Did something happen? Where is Victor’s stuff?” he asked.

“I’ll come back some other time. Let’s get out of here,” was everything he said, fixing the scarf around his neck.

.

By _some other time_ Yuuri meant that very same night.

Mari and Minako had left to the airport for their flight back to Japan, so Phichit moved to the guest’s room. Something inside him told him he had to stay with Yuuri, but it was still awkward to be around him after what had happened three days ago. Though, he was grateful to have a warm blanket on the cold night, unlike Yuuri whose covers were still on the floor of his room. Yuuri had been using nothing more than pants and a sweater to sleep at night.

Yuuri woke up at midnight and got on his feet, walking towards Phichit’s room, lighting his way with his cellphone.

“You want to go to the rink?” Phichit rubbed his sleepy eyes. “Like, right now? Why?”

“To get Victor’s stuff.”

“Yuuri, is midnight, I highly doubt it will even be open,” the Thai said with a yawn and falling back on his pillow to go back to sleep.

“We can try the back door,” Yuuri insisted and Phichit opened his eyes wide.

“Wow, wow, hold on a sec. You, Yuuri Katsuki, wanting to break the law? What happened to the guy who would send us home in taxi when we were drunk? The one who forgot to pay for an energy bar at SevenEleven and went back the day after to pay for it?”

“I can always go by myself.”

“No way,” Phichit jumped out of the bed and began to look for his shoes. “You’ll need an accomplice. An experienced one.”

.

Yuuri had absolutely no idea how they had ended up in front of the rink dresses all in black and covering half of their face with a face mask and a beanie.

“We look like criminals,” Yuuri pointed out when he saw his reflection on the glass doors.

“Well, we _are_ doing something illegal. And there probably are cameras inside,” his friend said.

“I highly doubt some criminals would rob an ice rink. What do they have? Used skates?”

“Do you have any idea what the R-22 gas costs in the market?”

“What is that? And how would you even know that?”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

He saw his friend getting close to the knob and lighting it up with his flashlight, pretending he was able to see inside the hole. He took out a fine metal bar and slid it inside. Yuuri pushed the door and it opened. The door wasn’t even locked.

The both looked at each other.

“Maybe they… don’t use the R-22?” Phichit commented when Yuuri raised an eyebrow at him.

They went inside, Phichit descending through the stands with his flashlight in hand. Yuuri tuned on the lights switch next to the entrance. Phichit stopped his advances to look around and Yuuri walked pass him, taking off the face mask and hat. Phichit followed, defeated.

The arrived to the changing room and went immediately to Victor’s locker, taking the lock in his hand. Before he could put the password, Phichit grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him.

“Phichit, what are you-?”

Phichit shushed him with a finger in front of his lips and kept staring at the door in the back. The lights at the other side were on and they could hear the water running.

Phichit walked towards it and Yuuri pulled him by the sleeve to stop him.

“Phichit, what are you doing? We have to go. It could be the guard,” Yuuri whispered.

“Is the guard taking a shower?”

“I really don’t want to know,” Yuuri said, but Phichit didn’t give up so Yuuri ended up going with him.

Phichit opened the door as quietly as possible. But then the door decided to grind and they both jolted, thinking that the person inside must have heard it. But there were no movement inside. They decided to open it a little more and look inside.

Yuuri muffle a scream in his throat.

There was a guy laying on the floor. The shower washing away remains of blood.

They both knew who it was.

Phichit was the first one to react, running to his aid. He propped him up, noticing the guy’s face completely white and his lips were almost colorless. The kid slightly flinched when he was carried from the ground and then passed out again. Phichit sighed in relief to know he was still alive.

“Yuuri! Hurry! Help me!”

Yuuri didn’t move.

It was obvious the other Yuri didn’t want to be saved.

Not when he had been the one to cut his own wrists in the shower.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breath in.  
> Breath out.  
> Breath in.  
> Breath out.  
> Now, repeat after me: Fuck you, Victor Nikiforov.  
> Fuck you, Victor Nikiforov.


	3. Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor hurries to him, taking the sharp tool away from him and holds the small body against his chest.
> 
> And he waits.
> 
> He waits for Yuri to push him, to punch him, to shout at him. But it never happens.
> 
> Instead, the kid cries and Victor remembers that he’s just a child.
> 
> He didn’t care about his damping clothes or that he doesn’t have a clean change, he doesn’t let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for keeping up with the story even after the long wait! Sorry about that, my wrist have been bothering me for more than a month now but the other day I just heard something 'snap' and since then it's been a straight path down to the hell of pain. Turned out I have Carpal Tunnel Syndrome which is very common among authors, illustrators and office workers because of the bad position of their wrists (and I happen to be all of those, so it was practically bound to happen sometime around...) I don't feel any better yet, but I made it to finish the chapter, thank you for your wait!
> 
> Catharsis: the experience of expressing strong emotions that previously were blocked.
> 
> (Remember, italics are flashbacks, lots of flashback in this chapter, so keep it in mind.)

_Yuri had noticed Victor. He had notice the way his hips move when he danced on the ice, the grace with which his hands moved to adorn the choreography, the way his deep blue eyes expressed all the feelings alongside with his body._

_Victor had also noticed Yuri. His skill and determination. His ability to memorize complex step sequences and the polished way he landed almost every jump. It seemed like he was born with a pair of skates._

_Victor had also noticed the scars and bruises the teenager worked hard to hide under his clothes._

_“Are you not gonna shower?” Victor asked him one day when he met him at the changing room, while he undid his skate’s laces. He knew the young one was also a Russian so it felt great to be able to talk with someone else in your first language._

_All of his students usually finished their training and went right to shower and then went home. But Yuri was different. Yuri would often stay some more time in the rink to practice and once he was already worn-out, he went to the changing room to sit on the bench and watch his phone._

_“Do you want to see me naked? What a pervert. I’m still a minor, y’know? You could go to jail,” Yuri teased him in Russian. He enjoyed talking to Victor in their first language, it was like they were speaking in code since no-one else understood. “I don’t like getting naked in front of so many people,” he explained with his eyes fixated on his phone’s screen._

_“So you wait for everyone to leave?”_

_“Mhm,” he nodded. He had stopped scrolling through the device and kept staring blankly at the same twitter profile. It was obvious his mind was somewhere else._

_Victor suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled over the sleeve, revealing purple marks around his wrist and more bruises that went up his arm, contrasting with his pale skin. Yuri froze._

_“Is it because of these?” Victor asked directly, facing him._

_At the question, Yuri snapped out of his bubble and pulled back his arm, breaking Victor’s grip. He put his phone in his pocket and stood up, clenching his teeth with anger._

_“It’s none of your business, old man,” he grunted and let the changing room, kicking the door open._

_Victor wondered if maybe he had been too rude and direct. Though, he wasn’t exactly the subtle kind._

_He let out a heavy sigh._

_._

Yuuri watched from the door frame as Phichit finished bandaging the young Russian’s wrists. He had already gained consciousness but wore dead-empty eyes. He hadn’t said a single word, but had done everything Phichit asked him to, even press on the wound as the Thai looked for the first aid kit.

“All set,” Phichit said, getting back on his feet.

Yurio dropped his arm on the bed with a thud.

“Are you hungry? Do you want me to bring you any food?” the Thai kindly asked.

Yuuri frowned.

When he didn’t get any response he decided to leave the kid alone to think for a while. He left the room, closing the door right behind him.

“Do you want pizza or Chinese food?” Phichit asked, taking out his phone.

Yuuri held the wrist of the hand with the cellphone, stopping him and forcing him to look at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“Trying to get us some food? Or would you rather cook?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Phichit,” Yuuri’s gaze was hard on him, even intimidating. Phichit took a deep breath in.

“Ok, ok, look, I know you don’t like him, andyouaretotallyright!” he quickly added before the Japanese could say anything. “But, c’mon, you weren’t seriously thinking about leaving the poor kid bleed to death in some locker room of an ice rink, were you?”

“I don’t know if you didn’t notice it in your obliviousness, Phichit, but those wounds were no accident.”

“They do say you shouldn’t make decisions while angry or sad.”

“You don’t know what he was thinking. Maybe he had been planning it for a while now.”

“But I know he didn’t deny our help.”

Yuuri went silent, but their eyes were still fighting against eyes other’s arguments.

The raven scratched his head.

“Let’s just take him to the hospital and get this over with.”

“Oh no, nonono. We broke into private property, Yuuri. We can’t take him to the Hospital, they’re gonna ask questions and you’re a terrible liar. I don’t have the right to bail in New York City anymore.”

Yuuri let himself fall on the couch.

“Then what? Are you planning for him to stay in _my_ guest’s room?” he raised an eyebrow. “Are you really testing my patience?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Yurio spoke from the room’s door frame. He had big dark circles under his eyes which Yuuri hadn’t notice before. “I’ll leave by my own.”

“Are you feeling better? Do you need a ride home?” Phichit offered while Yuuri made faces.

“I’m okay. I don’t need your help.”

“Good,” Yuuri said.

“Yuuri,” Phichit gave him a disapproved look and Yuuri shrugged. “Tell me where you live, I’m not letting you go just like that, it’s freezing cold out there!” The Thai insisted.

The other Yuri stared at the window and actually seemed to be considering the weather thing.

“Then to the rink.”

“Huh?” Phichit grimaced. “You can’t possibly be considering going to skate right now, are you? Like you are?”

The teenager licked his lips and looked down.

“I live there,” he confessed.

“You’re living in the locker room of an ice rink?” Yuuri glanced at him in disbelief.

“Of course he’s not, right? C’mon, give me your address,” Phichit insisted.

“I lived in an apartment, but they kicked me out. I’ve been living at the rink for two days. I stole a key.”

Well, that explained why it had been opened.

“They _kicked you out_?” Phichit could be a little nosy sometimes.

The Russian Yuri crossed his arms in front of his chest almost on defense mode. He kept quiet for a while but then talked, feeling more comfortable around Phichit.

“Victor paid for my rent,” he blurted out.

Yuuri got on his feet.

“Of course he did.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit called him, noticing how the tense in the air increased with every angry step of his friend.

“Don’t, Phichit. Don’t! Of course Victor paid for his rent! Of course _my husband_ paid for the rent of his… urg!” Yuuri pointed at him with clenched teeth. He couldn’t say the word he was thinking. It felt like insulting his late husband.

“I never asked him to do it!” The boy said.

“I should have left you bleed there!”

“Well, that was the fucking plan! But it always gets screwed up. If it’s not Victor, it’s the two of you!”

“Victor?” Yuuri reacted to the name.

“Forget it,” he said and walked towards the main door. “I’m leaving.”

“No, no, no, no,” Phichit blocked his way. “Don’t even think I’ll let you go by yourself to the rink in the middle of the night, with this weather and you with anemia.”

“Don’t try to make charity with me.”

“Let him leave, Phichit! Or, if you want to help him out that much, why don’t you take him to _your_ home instead?”

“Spend the night here. You can use the guest’s room,” the brunet said, completely ignoring his friend’s words.

“My house, Phichit, this is _my_ house!” Yuuri shouted one last time before deciding to go lock up into his bedroom, slamming the door shut.

Phichit and Yuri glanced towards the closed door.

“I insist. At least for tonight,” Phichit smiled at him and the Russian let out a resigned sigh.

The Thai guided him back to the room and watched as the teenager laid on the bed and covered himself up to the neck with the blanket.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked when Phichit turned off the lights. “Yuuri is your friend, right? Why help me after what I did?”

“It may sound a little dumb but…” he scratched his head. “Yuuri’s my best friend. We’ve been best friends for years. And when I saw the face he made when he found out about you and Victor’s relationship…” he sighed. “Yuuri loved him. He loved him so much. And now he’s having an inner battle against keeping loving him or to hate him and I just don’t want him to hate him. So I thought that if he gets to know you better he might, I don’t know, maybe forgive him a little.”

Yuri shut his eyes close, ready to sleep.

“You’re right,” he muttered before Phichit left the room, “it is dumb.”

.

The morning after was awkward for everyone.

Yurio had planned to wake up early and leave without having to bump into any of the two. Unfortunately, Yuuri and Phichit had a lighter sleep than him so by the time Yurio left the bedroom they were already in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand.

They didn’t notice Yurio so they kept on with their talk which the Russian overheard.

“Of course I won’t let him stay,” Yuuri practically grunted to let Phichit know he was not changing his mind about it. But it didn’t seem to work.

“C’mon, Yuuri, they guy sleeps in some dirty changing rooms.”

“Not my problem,” he sentenced and turned his back on his friend.

“Right, it was Victor’s.”

Phichit’s words seemed to touch upon a raw nerve on Yuuri, making his entire body tense up. Even though, he didn’t give in.

“Like I said, _not my problem_.”

Yurio decided to leave the shadows and stood up in the middle of the hallway, not exactly sure of what to do next.

“Hey, good morning,” the Thai greeted him. Yuuri, on the other hand, simply took a sip from his mug.

“Morning,” Yuri answered for mere courtesy to Phichit. Though, if Yuuri had greeted as well, he wouldn’t have said anything.

“There’s coffee, you drink coffee?” Phichit asked, shaking the coffee machine’s pot in his hand. Yurio nodded and he sat next to him on the kitchen bar. Yuuri left the kitchen and sat in the couch, grabbing one magazine and pretended to read it.

Phichit speak up while serving coffee to the blond.

“By the way, Yuuri, I was texting Celestino last night. He agreed to move here from Detroit and train us. He asked me to tell you not to feel pressured and that you can return to the ice when you feel ready.”

There was silence.

Yuuri left the magazine on the crystal table next to his mug and sank into the couch.

“Yuuri, you’re coming back, aren’t you?”

There was no answer.

The Russian raised a brow. Was Yuuri retiring?

“I’m not sure,” he answered in a whisper.

Yurio thought that knowing Phichit –for the little time he had since they’ve met–, his friend was gonna try to talk to him, to convince him. So he was surprised when the seconds ran in silent and Phichit’s face was completely blank, unreadable.

“I’m gonna go get breakfast,” he said and then gulped down everything that was left on his mug.

When Phichit left for the door, Yurio followed.

“I think it’s already time for me to leave,” he said but Phichit stopped him.

“Stay for breakfast, I insist,” he said nicely and Yurio wasn’t really in the mood to argue, and he was actually completely broke and hungry, so he didn’t deny the offer this time. He was gonna volunteer to go with him since it would be extremely awkward –and probably dangerous– to be left alone with Yuuri. But then he caught a glimpse of tears welling up in the corners of the Thai’s eyes and decided to stay.

Phichit probably needed some time alone as well.

The Thai left without saying another word, afraid that his voice would break and betray him. Yurio stood in front of the door for long seconds until he finally decided to go sit to the living room. It was more comfortable, even if he had to deal with Yuuri’s presence.

He sat on the couch further away from him with his mug in hand, close to his face and feeling the hotness warming up his nose. He blew away the steam and drank a sip.

It probably passed 10 minutes like that, in silence. Yurio was watching his reflection on the TV’s black screen while Yuuri kept his eyes on the ground. The Russian watched Yuuri’s reflection too from the TV.

He got bored of counting the Japanese’s breathing and watched around him. The living room was full of pictures of Victor and Yuuri. They were all posing to the camera, happily, like the happy and perfect couple they once were.

He felt nauseous.

He stood up and walked towards the guest’s room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the Japanese asked him.

“To sleep,” he responded. He didn’t see him and he didn’t stop.

“No, you’re not,” Yuuri grunted and that was enough to make Yurio stop. “No offense, but I don’t know you well enough to be sure you won’t try to steal anything.”

Yurio rolled his eyes.

“Of course, your Egyptian sheet set would look lovely on my bench.” He turned on his heel and went back to the living room, sitting on the couch he had just left.

Yuuri curved his lips a little because of the joke. Just a little. Not enough for him to like the boy.

.

Phichit arrived with more food than necessary from a cafe a couple blocks away from Yuuri’s house. Yurio didn’t hold back when eating, unlike Yuuri who barely touched his food.

When he was done, Yurio finally left. This time, Phichit didn’t insist in him to stay over, he just asked him to call if he ever needed something.

Once the two friends were alone the silence reigned over the house for the rest of the day.

They both had something to say, but they were mentally exhausted, so they kept it.

.

_When his group practice was over, Victor awaited in the seats expectantly. He ignored all the times his cellphone rang and vibrated with social media notifications and a few texts. He was focused, planning on a strategy._

_Time passed by faster than he had calculated and suddenly all his students were already heading home, waving at him from afar. Everyone but one who he knew always stood over longer than the rest._

_He breathed in deeply and stood on his feet, walking towards the locker room._

_When he opened the door, Yuri was still there, taking out his clean clothes from his bag. When the teenager saw him, he rolled his eyes._

_“Listen, if this is about…” he began, but Victor interrupted._

_“Get changed and come with me. I know a café nearby.” He didn’t ask, he stated._

_Yuri raised a brow._

_“I have to go home.”_

_“C’mon, I know there are times you arrive way later than today. It’s gonna be quick.”_

_Yuri looked at Victor in the eye. It was the first time his teacher had a face like that, without a smile, completely serious. Almost mad._

_He didn’t deny it. He grabbed his clothes and went to the showers, he then showed up all clean and dressed._

_It was still beginnings of November in New York and as the days went by Yuri realized his new coat wouldn’t be able to keep up with New York’s winter. It was probably time to unpack the Moscow’s clothes’ boxes, since he had clearly underestimated America’s winter._

_“Are you cold?” Victor asked, watching how Yuri embraced himself to keep warm._

_“No,” he grunted but Victor could see right through the lie._

_Before Yuri could protest, Victor took off his scarf and wrapped it around the teenager’s neck._

_It didn’t matter how many times Yuri told him that night that it wasn’t necessary, Victor insisted and the blond ended up giving up, holding onto the warm cloth._

_Warm and Victor’s smell._

_They finally arrived to the cafe, but it was way busier that they had expected. Probably because of the weather, or because it was Friday, anyway he felt uncomfortable._

_The sat on the furthest table in the back, away from the windows and the rest of New York, pretending to be just them alone._

_The waitress hand-shook Victor and Yuri couldn’t tell if his teacher was just being sympathetic or if he came here all the time. Maybe both._

_They ordered the same, a blunt cappuccino, though Victor asked his with cinnamon._

_“And how are you doing at school?” Victor asked. Yuri knew what they were here for so the casual question took him off guard._

_“Okay,” he answered._

_“Do you have good grades? You train very hard everyday, are you sure the skating is not a distraction from your studies?”_

_“My grades are good,” was everything he said._

_Their beverages arrived fast and Victor smiled at the waitress who immediately blushed. Yuri just made a face and sipped on his drink. He watched as Victor emptied sugar bags on the drink without having even tasted it yet._

_“Do you have a girlfriend?” he blurted out and Yuri burned his tongue._

_“I-I don’t,” he said after a painful groan._

_“Is there someone you like, then?”_

_“No.”_

_“Do you miss Russia?”_

_“Can you_ please _just get to the point? This is getting very annoying. It’s about the wounds, isn’t it?”_

_“I was trying to get you comfortable before asking but ok, do you hurt yourself?” he asked directly._

_“What? No, I don’t hurt myself.”_

_“Was it someone from your school? Or someone from your family?” he noticed Yuri’s body stiffening at the last question. “Is it your father?”_

_Yuri stays quiet for a long moment._

_“_ Step- _father,” he corrects._

_“Have you reported it? Have you done anything about it?”_

_“Yeah, I’ve done something about it,” he says as he stands up, grabbing his bag and leaving the almost full coffee on the table, “I’ve been arriving late after he’s asleep,” he says and then leaves._

_Victor want to go after him and stop him. He wants to help._

_But he didn’t._

_He stays at the back of that small cafe in the big New York, unsure of what to do, of what to say._

_The week after, there’s an awkward silence between them._

_It’s exactly seven days after the coffee shop incident that Victor forgets his car keys inside his locker, so he goes back to get them._

_That’s when he founds Yuri inside, naked in a corner of the showers. Holding a razor against his wrist._

_They freeze when their eyes meet._

_Victor hurries to him, taking the sharp tool away from him and holds the small body against his chest._

_And he waits._

_He waits for Yuri to push him, to punch him, to shout at him. But it never happens._

_Instead, the kid cries and Victor remembers that he’s just a child._

_He didn’t care about his damping clothes or that he doesn’t have a clean change, he doesn’t let go._

_Victor caresses his back drawing soothing circles with his fingers. He notices the bruises and what seemed to be bite marks._

_He decided on that very moment that he wouldn’t let Yuri go back to that house ever again._

.

Yuri can’t help remembering that day when the freezing cold weather strikes against him and he grabs Victor’s scarf as his last desperate resource to find warmth.

He laid down on the floor, using his backpack as a very uncomfortable pillow and some clean towels from the changing room as some kind of carpet so his body wouldn’t be laying completely on the hard floor.

He uselessly forces himself to sleep for hours. His eyes are fixated on the clock on the top of the wall. The ticking of its hands are the only noise he had heard all night long. He usually put on some music from his charging phone but today he didn’t feel like it, he had too many things on his mind. 

It had been already two days since that awkward and silent breakfast at Yuuri’s. Phichit had tried to call him (four times to be exact), but Yuri had dismissed all the calls the moment his name popped up on the screen. But the guy wouldn’t give up and began to text him asking for them to meet. Yuri wondered if the guy was actually some hypocrite for calling himself Yuuri’s best friend and then trying to meet him. Or maybe he just wanted to ask him about his relationship with Victor, which was actually most likely. Anyway, it didn’t really mattered Yuri, so he ended up blocking his number.

He tried again to beg himself to sleep, but the moment he closed his eyes, the other Yuuri’s face appeared. His eyes red and swollen, his head down, the lack of appetite. It was obvious he was devastated about Victor’s death.

And then there was him who still resented him for hiding the tiny fact that he was a married man. He, who couldn’t even mourn his death because of the anger that kept swelling inside him.

His phone vibrated with a twitter notification and the sound was enough to make Yuri give up on his quest. He opened his eyes with a grunt and stood up. He grabbed his skates.

.

_Yuuri wakes up a morning on April 19 th, feeling himself being attacked by tender caresses and sweet kisses from his boyfriend. His first reaction is to smile at him, but then the Russian’s hand are on his sides tickling him and Yuuri laughs hard and tries to push him away. The wrestle a little on the bed until Yuuri is finally able to pin down Victor on the bed and the laughs fade away. _

_They stare at each other and Yuuri knows why Victor is smiling, know why he didn’t follow his usual routine of waking up first and do his things while leaving Yuuri comfortable sleeping._

_Yuuri’s lips finds his and they smile while kissing._

_“Happy anniversary,” he whispers._

_“You didn’t forget,” Victor says, faking a surprised face. Yuuri let go of his wrists._

_“How could I?”_

_And really, how could he forget? How could he forget about the thing he’d been planning for weeks?_

_“I’m gonna go make breakfast,” Victor says as he jumps out of bed._

_“But I wanted to make you breakfast.”_

_“Ok, then how about we just go somewhere to have someone else cooks our breakfast?” He suggested and Yuuri nods._

_He watches up close as Victor grabs some clean clothes from his closet and heads to the bathroom to take a shower._

_When the door is closed and Yuuri is alone in the bedroom, he hurries to his nightstand and pulls open the second drawer. There, underneath a book, he founds what he was looking for. A little red box. He opens it to verify that everything is in order (as if something might have happened to it while being hidden) and sees the shiny golden ring resting inside._

_He takes a deep breath in. Will Victor like it? Will it fit? Yuuri had been touching Victor’s hands inconspicuously for weeks just to take measurements of his finger’s width. He still bought a slightly wider one, just in case._

_He hides it back again and falls into the mattress. It wasn’t even time and he already felt too nervous about it. He could feel his hands shaking. The doubt was still haunting his head, it had been since he had started looking for a ring for Victor._

_What if Victor didn’t feel ready for such commitment? What if the night got ruined? What if Victor simply said no? It was just their first anniversary since they’ve started dating, was it too soon?_

_He breathed in and breathed out._

_He heard Victor’s voice from the shower._

_“Yuuri, you don’t want to join me in?”_

_He smiled._

_._

_They had both picked that restaurant for their dinner tonight. It was a fancy Italian one. None of them had ever gone there so they weren’t sure of what to expect for the food. Everything looked gorgeous and magical on the internet’s pictures, with wooden floors and trees between tables and bright lamps hanging from the trees’ branches. It was like something out of a fairytale. It was the perfect background to ask Victor to marry him._

_The little velvety box was waiting inside his coat and Yuuri felt like it was burning every time he felt it touching his body. It was a constant reminder of what he had to do that night._

_He took off his coat and hanged it on the chair, being too careful, fearing of anything wrong that could happen that night like tripping over or hanging the coat wrong and the box would fall out somehow for Victor to see it and spoil everything._

_(Stop it, Yuuri. Stop thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong,) he told to himself._

_They both sat apart from each other at either side of the table and the waiter let the menu next to them. They ordered quickly and Yuuri also asked for a bottle of wine._

_“Are you gonna drink?” Victor asked with a certain tone in his voice. Of course Yuuri knew what it meant, though Victor didn’t exactly have a clean history either._

_But of course there had to be a bottle of wine, right? Either to celebrate their future marriage or, in case Victor said no, for Yuuri to drown his sorrows and shame in alcohol. Either way, and even if none of them drank it, there just_ had _to be a bottle of wine. It was almost a tradition._

_Their food arrive a couple minutes later and Yuuri was growing more and more conscious of the time passing very quickly as the food was starting to disappear from their plates._

_He didn’t really tasted it, was it good? Was it bad? Was it too salty? He didn’t know, he had just gulped it down. His mind was only focused on his heartbeat fastening everytime something disappeared from the table._

_Should he kneel? Would it make him look bad if he did? Inappropriate? Outdated? Would Victor like a classy proposal like that? Would it get everyone’s attention? It probably would. Would Victor feel awkward with everyone staring at them?_

_Then their plates were empty and the waiter was fast (too fast) in heading to the table to take them away. Yuuri’s gaze searched for Victor’s and once they were left alone and in silence, Yuuri breathed in one last time and suddenly he felt in calm. It wasn’t really that he felt confident about it, definitely not. It was something more like a ‘just do it’ feeling. And so he did._

_He took out the little box from his coat’s pocket and was surprised when his hands didn’t shake the moment the box was in his palm. Victor’s face changed to a surprised one, though Yuuri couldn’t tell if it was a ‘happy’ surprised one or an ‘oh-god-no’ surprised one._

_Yuuri watched sideways as the waiter was walking to their table with the desserts menu in hand but stopped to analyze what was going on and turned on his heel to go back to the station. Yuuri would definitely remind that when leaving the tip._

_“Victor,” he began to say, clearing his throat which had suddenly gone dry._

_“Oh god,” Victor blinked. And it’s important to say that, that he_ blinked _, because from the moment Yuuri had taken out the box he had been staring at it so intense that he had completely forgotten about blinking. He had forgotten how his body worked at all._

_“Would you do me the honor…” was that too cliché? Too tacky? ‘Just do it’, “… to marry me?”_

_He opened the box and now Victor_ did _forget how his body functioned. He watched the ring, appreciating the way the lamp’s light made it shine brightly._

_And everything was perfect. Unexpectedly, everything turned out perfect._

_Victor’s face was perfect. With the illumination highlighting his factions, the way his eyes shined, his parted lips, like wanting to say something. Yuuri decided to record that scene, that Victor, forever in his memories._

_And then, Victor laughed._

_It began muffled and then turned into a breathless laugh and painful pants. Well that was definitely not the reaction Yuuri was expecting to get. He frowned in confusion._

_Victor then took out of his pocket his own box and Yuuri looked at in in disbelief._

_“At least I was waiting for us to finish the dessert,” he said opening up the box and showing a ring similar to Yuuri’s._

_The Japanese man blinked twice._

_“What?”_

_Victor took Yuuri’s hand in his and placed the ring slowly, letting the skin brush the metal._

_“Would you marry me, Yuuri Katsuki?” he asked and the ring fitted perfectly. “Though I already know your answer.”_

_Yuuri found that asking was way different from being asked and he couldn’t find his voice._

_So Victor just placed his hand in front of him, waiting for Yuuri to slide in the ring. And he did in silence. And the ring was too loose. They both noticed and they both laughed at it._

_._

Yuuri couldn’t sleep that night.

He had already tried all possible positions. Upside down, on his side, hugging a pillow, in fetal position, he even put his legs up against the headboard, waiting for his body to get tired enough to sleep. But it was useless.

He laid back on his back, mentally tired of trying too hard for something that was supposed to come naturally. He rolled to his side and his eyes found the ring in his finger.

Even after everything that had happened, he had been unable to take it off.

His finger without the ring felt… wrong. Just wrong. Like the ring had become another part of his body, taking it off felt unnatural. Over the years he had even developed the habit of playing with the ring everytime he felt nervous or insecure.

That ring with which he had become Victor’s husband, was now his strength. Taking it off was like taking his life away.

He had always thought it was the same for Victor.

He couldn’t understand when everything had gone wrong.

He jumped out of them, still wearing his clothes from that afternoon, a sweater and some comfortable sweatpants. He took the closest snickers and headed towards the main door.

Phichit had already left to his own apartment, though he still visited everyday and called like every two hours. Yuuri appreciated it, it helped him keeping his mind occupied, instead of focusing of the mess of life he now had.

But Phichit must be asleep by now and Yuuri’s mind had just begun to work without him able to stop it.

He had to speak with the other Yuri.

He just had to know the truth.

.

This time he didn’t hide his face from the cameras or used gloves to cover his prints. He came in by the main door, like it was a normal afternoon day instead of two in the morning and the door opened without effort, letting him in the ice rink.

Yurio was skating.

The place was in absolute silence except for the screech the blades did when sliding on the ice. There was no sound in the background, and even so Yuuri could swear he could hear something. It was Yurio’s movements, his expression, his figure dancing on the ice, making music. Imaginary music that couldn’t be heard but he could feel it.

Yuuri sat on one of the chairs and watched in silence. The blond didn’t notice him, too focused on his movements, deep in his feelings and trusting that no one would be there at such late hours.

Yuuri wasn’t lying when he had told Phichit about not knowing what to do now with his career. He didn’t feel inspired, and now that he had lost his muse forever, he doubted he would ever regain his motivation. He had been thinking about it for two days now, but now, watching the kid, his thoughts were all foggy.

Yurio was taking it all out on the ice, just like Yuuri had done back in the past. The Russian was trying to exhaust his body to the limit, to avoid thinking, trying to run away from the reality. And he did so in a very beautiful way, Yuuri noticed.

He was just as good as any professional figure skater. He wondered if Victor had thought the same, he wondered if Victor had thought about signing he up for some competitions. He wondered if Yurio wanted to.

He wondered if Yurio would win.

He definitely had the potential to win.

Yuuri’s eyes were focused on the kid while he did a flip in the air and landed it perfectly, keeping up with the dance. The he tried again and this time he made a quad salchow. Yuuri parted his lips, surprised of the kid’s almost natural abilities, that jump was hard to land, even a professional like him had troubles with it.

Yurio flight in the air, his whole body twirling and Yuuri could almost see him in slow-mode. He watched as his blade touched the ice, then stumbled and threw the skater down against the cold and hard ice. Yuuri hopped from his seat with worry when the teenager’s body rolled all the way to the rink’s wall where it hit and he heard a painful moan coming from him.

Yuuri hurried down to the rink to make sure he was conscious.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Was the first thing the Russian said when he saw him, blinking fast in confusion as if his brain had hit too hard and was now playing him with illusions.

“Are you okay?” the older one asked, ignoring the question. He extended a hand to help him get on his feet.

Yurio, obviously, didn’t take it, though. He propped himself up leaning against the wall and finding it hard to find his balance.

He sled to the entrance of the rink and grabbed his blades’ protections, putting them on as he walked away to the changing room, ignoring Yuuri’s presence there.

“It’s your timing, you know?” Yuuri said as he saw the other waling away.

Yurio stopped midway and glared back at him.

“Hah?” he grunted.

Yuuri gulped saliva but didn’t back down.

He couldn’t let himself be intimidated by a kid.

“Your timing, everything’s about the timing. But you’re also failing on your turn, you use all the strength of your torso when you should be relying more on your legs,” he explained.

Yurio crossed his arms in front of him.

“Right, I forgot you were the pro,” he bit down at him in sarcasm.

“I can teach you,” he said and when he realized the meaning of his words he glanced down. “I mean, if you want to.”

“I thought you were retiring.”

Yuuri looked back up at him at the comment. He kept quiet. Yurio clenched his jaw and walked back to the rink pass Yuuri. He leaned back on the wall this time to take off the protectors.

“Let’s see if you’re right and I can land it.”

He went back to the rink.

Yuuri explained him the jumping theory from outside, imitating the turn, the position, star and landing. He also pointed out the timing of each one.

Yurio was able to land it on the first try following the Japanese’s instructions. When he landed on his feet a smile drew on his face instinctively. When the met Yuuri’s also smiling face the happiness faded away from him.

Yuuri put himself comfortable and kept on giving him advices. He watched and corrected, and Yurio followed in silence.

They stopped when Yurio leaned against a wall gasping and panting and with the brow pearled by the sweat.

“I think that’s it for now,” he muttered between breaths.

“Sorry, you should go to sleep now,” the Yuuri apologized and Yurio simply denied with a hand movement, still unable to say anything.

“It was me who started skating because I couldn’t sleep, anyways.”

He left the rink for the second time that night with the protectors on his blades and sat down on one of the seats away from Yuuri’s.

The silence between them reappeared and all they could hear was Yurio’s heavy breathing.

“Do you really live here?” Yuuri asked all of a sudden.

“Why would I lie about it?”

“I don’t know. To make me feel bad? You tell me.”

“Sure, because I am the criminal mastermind behind all this, right?”

The blond wiped away the sweat from his brow a brushed his bangs to the side to let his skin breath.

“Well… I have an extra room,” Yuuri commented and Yurio looked at him astonished.

“Are you…?” he couldn’t finish his sentence as the surprise was too big for him to understand the meaning behind all.

“It’s better than the changing room of an ice rink, isn’t it?” he commented with a shrug.

“I see that my plan worked,” Yurio chuckled. “To make you feel bad. I _am_ a criminal mastermind.”

Yuuri smiled. Just a little.

He still hadn’t forgotten what the kid had done.

.

“You may want to change your expensive Egyptian covers for cheaper ones before I lay down on them,” Yurio joked when he entered the bedroom with his bag hanging from his shoulder. Yuuri insisted that he brought all his stuff, which were inside one a small backpack.

“I don’t have cheap covers.”

“Wow, I see figure skating’s very profitable,” he let his bag down on the floor carelessly, even though his whole life was inside it.

“Just a few sponsorships, photographs for sport’s clothes, etc. You live comfortable enough. Anyway, Victor had much more than me, so we’ll have to figure it out somehow.” Yuuri said as he watched the kid taking off his wore shoes.

“And you just have to, what, compete on the Grand Prix Final once a year? Where do I sign?” he sat on the bed with crossed legs.

“Would you like to?” and there was the question the Japanese had been trying to ask all night.

“What? Competitive figure skating?” he asked and Yuuri nodded. “I was thinking of doing it this year. Well, before my coach and only sponsor tragically died.”

Yuuri looked down for a second, remembering Victor.

“I can help you,” he blurted out, unsure himself of why he proposed something like that.

But the kid had so much potential. It was painful to watch someone as good as him sleeping on a wooden bench because his coach was gone.

“Are you gonna finish your late husband’s work?”

“What can I say? My husband had a great eye for talent.”

“Humble way to imply he coached you,” the Russian said and they both kept in silence for a while. Yurio thinking it through. “Only if you promise we won’t keep on the family tradition of ‘coach fucks his student’.”

Yuuri frowned and his body stiffened.

“I can still kick you out, you know?”

“And here I was getting all comfy already,” the blond fell on the bed and Yuuri turned around to leave the room.

“Good night, Yurio,” he closed the door behind him.

The boy made a disgusted face at the nickname.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're probably thinking and no, things won't get better or the story less depressing anytime soon...  
> #SorryNotSorry

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr! https://curliesfiction.tumblr.com/


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